


make your blood burn like a fire

by Beans (provetheworst)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Byleth learns what emotions are, F/F, Female My Unit | Byleth, Giant Robots, Newtypes (Gundam), a lil tiny bit of hubert/ferdinand snuck in there also, gundam au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/pseuds/Beans
Summary: A technician talks to the pilot as she's getting out of the suit, with a smile on their face: "Hey, we've been wondering. Why haven't you personalized your cockpit at all?"Her stomach feels strange at the question. The technician's expression is - she doesn't know how to categorize it but a tiny part of her wants to recoil or lash out. Instead, staring blankly, she asks, "What? Personalized it?"The technician laughs, winking at her. She feels a surge of heated emotion but can't name it. "Most people put up, you know, photos or whatever. Or they've got little good luck charms. You've got nothin'."She stares at him, blank-eyed, and then Rhea has her by the arm. "Come now, my child. Don't concern yourself with them. I'll make sure they don't bother you again."-Or: Byleth learns her name and discovers a reason to fight, thanks to Edelgard.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 42
Kudos: 295





	make your blood burn like a fire

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny glossary, for those unfamiliar with Gundam:  
> A mobile suit is a giant robot built for combat - a few types namedropped here are the GM, the Rick Dias, and the Zaku. Look 'em up if you'd like. A Gundam is a particularly advanced and powerful type of mobile suit.  
> A Side is a space colony - there are seven of them, stationed at the LaGrange points.  
> A "normal suit" is the lightweight spacesuit pilots and others wear when there's a risk they might be exposed to vacuum - [here is a drawing of Byleth in hers](https://twitter.com/aflightybroad/status/1203434241847103488)!  
> Byleth's mobile suit and edelgard's gundam aren't any particular canon models, so imagine them however you want. (Well, Edelgard's Gundam is pretty similar to the Psyco Gundam Mk III, but RX-78 sized.)
> 
> If you do know Gundam, this doesn't take place in any particular canon, but it is most closely modeled on the Universal Century setting.
> 
> Shouts out to @znarikia and @butchidols on twitter who both read this thing before posting and gave some feedback that made it better; errors or inconsistencies are all on me at this point.

Sometimes Byleth misses having separate screens directly in front of her. Sitting in the cockpit of her mobile suit, surrounded by a vision of the stars - she wants to be disconnected, wants to feel compartmentalized and safe in her giant death machine. Instead she feels very small and very human. The 360 degree screen was a mistake.

Reacting to a flash of intuition, she jerks around, the suit following her commands with flawless speed. Hers is an experimental model, the Sword 00-1, still unpainted. The ceramic coating makes it look like bone, a skeletal monster floating in the void. She activates the beam saber, slicing through the Rick Dias before it can hit her.

A wash of color as the pilot dies, the other suit imploding on itself. She moves on. The Black Eagle fleet has just joined battle with the forces of Azure Moon, a revenant fleet attached to the Church, and she is star pilot. Amnesiac, drifting, a tiny body in the blackness of space piloting a machine built for death. This is her choice - to fight for what she believes in and to strike back against what's been done to her and the people she's met and - befriended, might be the word for it, maybe. She hasn't had friends before. She hopes she does now.

Byleth does what she has been told to do these last three years, though for a different side now: she brings death with her. GMs, Guncannons, Rick Dias - they all fall to the Sword. Whether by beam saber or by rifle or the vulcans, they explode or they fall apart or they crash into each other in broken tangles of metal, and most of the time she does this without seeing the bodies of the other pilots, so very small in this outsized massacre.

She sees it all around her. Surround sound - the crackle of a radio disrupted by sheer density of Minovsky particles - and surround vision. Byleth misses her old mech so bad it almost hurts, but this is the one they stole from Side 3's Seiros research facility and this is the one that she escaped with and the one that has let her destroy so many lives. She never had anything else to miss there - this suit, her GM, a captured Zaku, nothing else.

She didn't ever think about it like that, before. She does now, all the time. She has things she might miss, now, were they to be taken from her or leave her behind. People she trusts. These are more important than any one machine could ever be.

She can feel them all around her - little lights, names and voices. Intentions smeared across the back of her eyelids. One bright voice, above it all, leading her forward - a voice and an eagle and an ideal, something she can lose herself in. She lets this guide her forward, lets herself be the talons.

She may be a weapon but she is in capable hands now, led by someone she trusts to make the right choice, someone who won't punish her for disagreement or questions. 

Byleth doesn't have to do this anymore. She could go hide on a colony or find a way to smuggle herself to Earth or Luna II, blend in, become something else. But - she is so used to being a weapon, and she can be useful, and her choice has been made and will be remade. 

-

Three months ago: she pilots her GM for the last time. After this, the new suit they've been building for her will be ready and she will leave the GM behind for someone else to fly.

A technician talks to the pilot as she's getting out of the suit, with a smile on their face: "Hey, we've been wondering. Why haven't you personalized your cockpit at all?"

Her stomach feels strange at the question. The technician's expression is - she doesn't know how to categorize it but a tiny part of her wants to recoil or lash out. Instead, staring blankly, she asks, "What? Personalized it?"

The technician laughs, winking at her. She feels a surge of heated emotion but can't name it. "Most people put up, you know, photos or whatever. Or they've got little good luck charms. You've got nothin'."

She stares at him, blank-eyed, and then Rhea has her by the arm. "Come now, my child. Don't concern yourself with them. I'll make sure they don't bother you again."

"Ah." She nods, and drifts along after Rhea, looking down at the hand on her wrist and wondering, suddenly, what would happen if she shook it off. She doesn't.

A flash, then - the floor and ceiling and world around her are gone, the colony nothing. She sees an endless array of stars, brighter and more colorful and so much nearer than usual. 

A glancing thought, not her own, of _I'll make them pay this will not happen again I am sure of my path even if I must walk it alone_ and the wings of a bird that spread across the sky until everything is red as blood and the world is remade.

"Child." Rhea's voice. She blinks. The stars are gone and instead its the colony arcing up around and above her, city lights twinkling in the sky just barely visible through the fog at the center.

"Yes."

"What do you see?"

She stares at the woman in front of her. "You, Lady Rhea."

"Oh, you don't have to lie to me. You can tell me anything."

"I see you, and the sky, and - buildings. Side 3." She pauses. She doesn't remember leaving the facility. Doesn't remember changing out of her normal suit to civilian clothes. She remembers someone else's voice and the vast ocean of stars. "Grass to the right. We're on the sidewalk."

Rhea laughs. "All right. I had thought you finally - no, never mind. Come along."

-

A battle, two months ago:

She is in her new mobile suit for the first time, surrounded by the stars instead of watching them on flat screens. This is not a simulation. The suit reacts so quickly. She soars through void, diving and dodging and rolling. Kicks a Zaku in the head, the metal crumpling, the bright red camera shattering as the suit goes tumbling through space and crashes into a Salamis-class ship; both are badly damaged. The Zaku does not move under its own power again.

Then everything is on fire, or - something behind her eyes is, smearing her senses, sparking in her veins. There is a voice that asks, urgently, entranced, _Who are you?_

She doesn't know. Blood roars in her ears like an untamed, demonic beast. A Gouf nearly cuts her arm off but she wheels around just in time, feeling sluggish, distracted by the voice. _Enemy?_

An eagle; a raging fire; a clarion call to purpose and vengeance. At the heart of these images, nestled deep, a woman with white hair. Extrapolating outward - a woman with white hair, helmet on, inside a spacesuit. A woman with white hair wearing a space suit sitting in the cockpit of a mobile suit, a black and gold monstrosity of metal and light, surrounded by stars.

 _Does yours have screens?_ the pilot wonders.

An answer, instant: _What? Yes. Never mind. Who are you? Have we met before? Who are you?_ and then that last question over and over, repeated, echoing.

They're both distracted by fighting, then. They're not on the same side. This is a rebellion that must be put down, Rhea had said, but there is another girl who is surrounded the same way she is, who is a bird and a fire and a frail human being with dreams and goals. She has none of these things. She is a void, a weapon. She is aimed at the target to destroy and she does.

It is not long before the two fleets are nearly decimated. They're too evenly matched, this battle a mistake for both of them.

In her skeletal machine, she looks out at the mobile suit before her. Black and gold, with spikes like feathers on its shoulders and bright golden horns on its head. _Ah_ , she realizes suddenly, _so this is a Gundam_. She's never fought one. She didn't think the enemy had any.

 _You again,_ she hears, a brush of feathers against her neck. She shivers and closes the glass on her helmet against the air of the cockpit. She's more comfortable constrained and enclosed, breathing air more recently recycled. It makes her feel - less adrift. She is always adrift. They've fought before, she thinks, in different suits. A long time ago. She couldn't see so much then.

There are so many more stars than there should be.

 _What did they do to you?_ the voice asks her. _Who are you?_

A GM soars in out of the darkness, on a direct collision course with the Gundam. She races into action, surging forward, blazing by the Gundam with only inches to spare as she intercepts and destroys the other mobile suit. They were on her side. She does not feel anything when they die.

 _I don't want to fight you,_ she thinks, turning again to face the Gundam. _I don't. Who are you?_

 _The Flame Emperor: Edelgard von Hresvelg._ And: a bird, a girl, a pilot, a weapon; someone who was used who is fighting her own battle. A rising star. A beacon. A fire that rages even in the abyss. _We don't have to fight. Follow. Follow._

No one else has reached out a hand to her this way, no matter how metaphorical. She follows and abandons everything she has ever known - which is not much. The research facility, the barracks, the sidewalk between the two and the sight of the rest of Side 3 all around her but never visited, the fleet, her mobile suit. All she has with her is the Sword.

-

She stumbles out of her mobile suit, ripping off her helmet and taking deep breaths as she looks around, wide-eyed and reborn to a different world. This ship is older than any she's been on, dingy and full of life. Mechanics and technicians swarm the Sword 00-1.

The Gundam's pilot is graceful as she emerges from her own suit, pulling off her helmet and flipping her white hair over her shoulder, looking around and then freezing when she sees her.

Edelgard jumps down, drifting in the low gravity, coming to a graceful landing in front of her. She smiles, holding out her hand. "Welcome aboard the _Enbarr_. It's good to meet you. What's your name?"

Her brow furrows at the question. "I'm the pilot."

Edelgard pauses. "The pilot."

"Yes," she agrees, nodding quickly. Her face feels warm for some reason. She answered correctly, but Edelgard's face seems - not just doubtful, but incredulous and frustrated.

"We're not going to hurt you," Edelgard says, slowly, carefully. "But you must have a name. Something we can call you."

"Rhea called me child," she offers, helpless; her chest feels strange, her throat tight. There is a dull ache at the base of her skull. "I'm an adult but she was older than me. You shouldn't call me that. I'm sorry. I don't have anything to tell you."

Edelgard looks - horrified, for a flash of a second, then very, very sad; then her expression is carefully neutral. "Well. If you don't have a name, we'll just have to find one for you. Please, follow me. Do you need the restroom? Anything to eat?"

"No."

"Then I'll take you to see our doctors," Edelgard says, and turns and begins to walk as if she expects her to follow. Then Edelgard pauses, looking over her shoulder. "Is that okay with you? Or did you want to rest first?"

She thinks about this. She's never been given a choice. "The doctor is fine. Thank you."

-

Records stolen from Side 3 a month ago indicate that her name is Byleth and that she used to have parents. This seems unlikely, but there are paragraphs on paragraphs saying it's true, so - maybe it is. The blue-haired child in the pictures smiles widely, a gap in her teeth, holding the hand of a grizzled but kind looking man much taller than she is. Byleth looks at the picture and tries to recreate that expression, baring her teeth, but it feels forced and awful and she doesn't know what would ever make her as happy as that child clearly was. They look similar enough, it's true, despite her hair being a pale green now. Maybe that was her, once.

Byleth has so many choices now that it's almost overwhelming: is she okay being called Byleth. What does she want to eat. Does she want to keep being a pilot. Does she want ketchup. (Ketchup, it turns out, is amazing; she always wants ketchup, on everything, forever. She can put ketchup on cake and no one stops her. She can have cake!)

There are people around her, and she can talk to them or not; no one stops her from wandering in and out of conversations. She stares around the ship wide-eyed and feels herself settle - held to this place as surely as her magnetic boots hold her to the floor. 

The _Enbarr_ is a finer ship than her first impression granted - clean, well maintained, an old Imperial vessel pressed back into service and upgraded thoroughly for the battle against the Church and Alliance. The mech bay was a bit of a disaster when she first disembarked, but when they're out of battle even it polishes up well enough. Their complement of mobile suits is impressive.

It takes a while for Byleth to ask, sheepishly, if she can try piloting a Zaku in their next sortie.

Edelgard just seems confused. "Instead of the Sword?"

"Yes." Byleth pauses, mulling over how to phrase it. She had mainly been a GM pilot, but they don't have any GM mobile suits onboard the _Enbarr_ and she's not so greedy that she'd ask them to capture one for her sake. "I piloted one a few times. They captured it and - while they were still developing the. Before they built the Sword. It was. Comfortable."

"I see." Edelgard nods. "Very well. I'll speak to Hubert and we'll ready a Zaku for you."

So she does, and it turns out well enough, but the old Zaku can't quite keep up and half the joints and gears are stripped by the time she flies it back to the ship at the battle's close, and she has to admit to herself that she has outgrown that model. The GM would probably feel just as bad. Too closed in, too narrow a field of view.

"We could try and upgrade one for you," Edelgard says, apologetic, with a hand on her shoulder. Byleth stares at that hand intensely; no one ever touches her. The only person who ever did was Rhea, leading her around. This touch is not meant to direct her anywhere. It seems casual and unplanned and aimless.

When it seems like Edelgard might drop her arm, Byleth covers Edelgard's hand with her own. She wants that touch to stay a while longer. She meets Edelgard's eyes. "No, it's alright. I can pilot the Sword."

Edelgard's lips part, slightly. Her eyelashes flutter. She looks at Byleth's hand on top of her own, and Byleth stares at her face. Finally, Edelgard nods. "I see. Thank you. I'm sorry the Zaku didn't work out."

"It's fine," Byleth decides, then and there. She gets a flash like she does when piloting, only - it's just Edelgard, in front of her, very present. Her intuition is just singing Edelgard's name to her, and her whole body feels warm, like there's a flame keeping the cold at bay. "You let me try. I appreciate it. Rhea didn't - she wouldn't let me ..."

"I'm sorry," Edelgard says. She swallows, looking to the side, then steps close. Her face is against Byleth's clavicle and her other arm wraps around Byleth's back.  
Byleth holds tightly but looks past her, at the looming shadow of her mobile suit. "Listen. That suit is what they made me for. I'll show them exactly what it is that they created."

-

At dinner one night, Linhardt walks by her then stops. He looks vaguely ill, suddenly. "Did you murder someone?"

"What?" Byleth pauses. "It depends on the definition. I don't think so, but you could argue that if you wanted. I'm sure some of the people I've killed would say they were murdered, if they were still alive to say things."

Linhardt squints at her. "I mean just now, not in general."

Byleth tilts her head. "No. I've been here. I don't ..." She pauses, looking down at her hands, then realizes: "Oh, it's ketchup."

"You look like a crime scene," Linhardt says, and with that, turns and walks away.

Five minutes later, Caspar bounds over waving a napkin in his hand. "Yo, Byleth!"  
"Yo." She stares at him, and he starts laughing, absolutely delighted, and she has no idea why.

"Linhardt said - oh, wow, Linhardt was _right_ , you really are a mess." Caspar grins, flopping down onto the bench next to her. "Look, I get it, I'm a messy eater, too, but Lin's gonna kick your ass if you keep walking around looking like a serial killer."

"I'm not a serial killer," Byleth says, mildly frustrated. She just likes ketchup in vast quantities, and ketchup is semi-liquid and likes to drip. This isn't her fault. She always cleans up and washes her clothes after she eats. So today is a bit much, a little overdramatic - it's fine. She was going to take care of it as always. She considers the question a little longer before adding, "I don't think I've ever killed anyone outside of combat, as far as I know."

"As far as - you know what, I'm not gonna ask," Caspar says. He grabs her shoulder, getting in her space carelessly, as if it's normal. Somehow it feels friendly, like camaraderie, instead of being treated like a tool or like luggage. She allows it. He stuffs the napkin he's holding into the collar of her shirt, just deep enough so it stays there, then fluffs it out a bit over her shirt. "This is my secret technique for eating without getting stuff all over me."

She looks down at her chest and the napkin. "Oh, I see. So food gets on this instead of my shirt."

"Exactly!"

Byleth laughs. "Well, if it'll keep Linhardt from killing me, then I'll do this next time. Thanks."

"You got it," Caspar says, ruffling her hair. "Honestly, I just don't like hearing him complaining. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. Plus I want you guys to be friends, and that's hard if he won't talk to you, y'know?"

"That makes sense." Byleth smiles, sheepish. "No one ever really taught me ... anything, besides fighting. So." She flicks a finger at the corner of the napkin. "Thanks."

"It's not like, the most dignified method?" Caspar adds, chewing thoughtfully at his lip. "You're not gonna wanna do that at a fancy party or nice restaurant anything, but I think you're fine on the _Enbarr_."

Byleth nods very seriously. "Thank you for your advice."

"Sure, of course," Caspar says. "Friends gotta look out for each other."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"We're friends!" Byleth looks away grinning.

-

Edelgard always lets her choose, and Byleth always chooses Edelgard. 

In other ways, she also chooses Hubert and Bernadetta and Ferdinand and Linhardt and Caspar and Petra; they are all her friends and she likes spending time with them, likes sharing meals and tea and fighting alongside them. They all break down sometimes and she likes being there to help them as much as she can, and they are there for her, too. She likes this side of the war much better, as much as she can say that. She doesn't remember much before the war. Training, readying herself for war, then finally her life given meaning. At least now she has friends. Now she has something to fight for and protect, a reason beyond rote following of orders. She has chosen a lot of things since her departure.

But in the ways it matters most she chooses Edelgard - to put her trust in, to let guide her, as a leader, as a friend. As the person she cares the most about.

-

"What do you do in your free time?" Byleth asks Edelgard at breakfast one morning, leaning over the table and watching her eat.

Edelgard swallows, and says, "Hm?"

"Your hobbies."

"Oh." Edelgard considers this for a moment. "Most of what I do is really in service to the war, now that I think about it. I enjoy piloting and studying history. Ah! I like to paint. I haven't painted in quite a while, though."

"You should do it again," Byleth says. "Petra told me I should have hobbies. She says they're important."

"They are," Edelgard agrees. "We all need our distractions to keep from losing ourselves."

A long pause. Byleth says, "I already lost myself. Or - I guess I never had the chance to. I was made lost."

Edelgard's lips part like she's about to say something. Her teeth are straight and white, and Byleth can just barely see her tongue, pressed against her upper teeth in preparation for a syllable that never quite makes it out. Edelgard closes her mouth again.

"That's not it, either." Byleth shakes her head. "No. We're a lot alike, so I was hoping - I don't know."

"Are we?"

Byleth shrugs. "I think so."

"You're probably right," Edelgard says after a moment. "Well, if you'd like help finding a hobby, I'd be happy to help. I should probably be more open to them myself."

Thus, once a week, they find something to do on board the ship that has absolutely nothing to do with combat or politics - painting, poor attempts at poetry, building little model sailing ships like from Earth. 

Half the crew catches wind of this, and before long they're all doing little arts and crafts projects together, and watching old movies, too, sometimes, when no one can agree what to work on that night.

Byleth isn't quite sure what her favorite non-combat activity is, but she does enjoy spending time with the crew. She thinks that might be what she likes best, honestly, if friendship can be classed as a hobby. 

-

Sometimes Byleth startles people. She doesn't mean to, but she's very quiet and tends to forget to announce her presence when entering or leaving rooms. She drifts silently into the lounge, the door closing quietly behind her. Usually the room is empty on this particular shift. 

Much of the crew is usually asleep by now, and there are no planned activities, nor are they likely to encounter combat soon. People are on call, of course, but that's always the case.

The room is not empty. Instead: Ferdinand and Hubert are there. Ferdinand is sitting half on Hubert's lap, head bowed; Hubert is running a brush through Ferdinand's hair. They both look very peaceful.

Byleth isn't used to seeing Hubert peaceful. Mostly when she sees him he's on the bridge giving orders, or else he's scheming about their next moves with Ferdinand and Petra and Edelgard. The war to liberate the Sides from Earth control is slow and all-consuming; they're often on the defensive and constantly on the move, trying to resupply whenever they can. Their positions at Sides 2 and 5 are secure, Side 4 nearly so, but Side 7 and Luna II are in constant flux, and that is where they're bound for now - another vicious battle, more death, more struggle. It leaves little time for Hubert to do anything but glower and loom and plot.

So: it's strange, seeing him so relaxed. Neither of them are looking her way at all. They're speaking low, and Byleth doesn't even try to listen in. Something about them makes her chest ache strangely.

Hubert gathers Ferdinand's hair into a braid, the motion practiced as if he's done it dozens of times before. Byleth runs a hand through her own hair, considering if she could learn to braid it. It doesn't look too hard to do. She hums something under her breath, trying to gather her hair into sections.

Ferdinand turns his head and presses his mouth against Hubert's. Hubert sighs, stroking a hand against Ferdinand's cheek, his eyes closed; Ferdinand, though, has his eyes open, staring at Hubert with an intensity and fondness that are almost frightening.

Then he notices Byleth, yelps, and jumps halfway across the room, slamming into the ceiling in the process and bouncing back toward the floor in a flustered rebound.

"Hello." Byleth doesn't even try not to laugh.

"Byleth! You startled me. I will - I must go," Ferdinand says, suddenly, grabbing on to the back of a chair and righting himself. He's standing on a wall, yes, but he's standing. "Yes. Captain, I will see you later. Much to discuss. Much to discuss."

"I see," Hubert says, somewhere between irritation and amusement. Ferdinand kicks off the wall, making a bee-line for the door. Byleth gets out of his way, watching him leave and watching the door shut behind him. "Well. After that little display - did you need something?"

"I was going to watch a movie, I think," Byleth says. The idea had crossed her mind, but she got distracted quickly. Such physical closeness, and so casual - she's no stranger to hugs and handshakes, but she's felt lonely for so long. "Are you and - no, never mind."

While, ostensibly, Byleth could ask him anything, she decides not to this once. She's not going to start asking him personal questions now no matter how much she wants to. Captain Hubert von Vestra intimidates Byleth on a regular basis. He does it on purpose, of course, cultivating a very intentional reputation - stern, fair, willing to do whatever it takes, and utterly ruthless. While he's technically in charge of the ship, he remains ever-deferent to Edelgard, and she can't figure out why. 

Finally, she just asks. "Why do you act like Edelgard is in charge? Aren't you the commanding officer?"

"She's the heir to the empire." Hubert laughs under his breath. "You really didn't know?"

"How would I have? She hasn't told me." Byleth pauses. "I could have asked her instead of you. But here we are."

"Hm. Of course she didn't tell you. She does not wish to inherit," Hubert says after a moment, explanatory. "Or rather - she does, but only because there's no one else left to do so. She wants no special treatment along the way, and she intends to reform the Empire as soon as she gets the chance."

"I see," Byleth says, with next to no idea what any of that means. "If she's the heir, should she be flying a mobile suit?"

"You've seen her in combat."

"Yes." Byleth stares at him, waiting.

"Ah, that's not enough for you." Hubert laughs darkly. "My Lady would not wish to lead her people into battle if she could not fight herself. She would never ask for that sort of sacrifice if she were not willing to make it as well."

"She's a good leader," Byleth agrees after a moment. She would follow Edelgard anywhere. She wants - if she could have the same sort of closeness to her that Hubert had to Ferdinand before Byleth interrupted -

Her thought is interrupted. "And you, why do you fight?"

Byleth stares at him. "Why not?"

Even when startled into it, his laughter sounds ominous. "I see."

-

It is a year before she pieces together that she wants something from Edelgard she has not thought to ask for, and she doesn't know, now, if it's something she's allowed to choose. She thinks they may need to choose it together, and that's frightening but exhilharating, too, to think of this uncertainty and this many possibilities. 

Choices branch from each other, and each can lead to new ones in turn; one small change could lock potential futures away from her forever. She likes knowing there are so many ways the future could unwind.

They eat dinner together. Byleth wolfs down her burger, staring intently at Edelgard the whole time. Edelgard is used to her strangeness and does not comment, though some of their other allies occasionally complain; Byleth acquiesces, when they tell her not to stare or ask her to lighten up. But Edelgard almost never asks that of her - seems ready to face her strange intensity head-on and unafraid.

Byleth licks the last of the grease and ketchup from her fingers before leaning forward slightly. "Edelgard."

"Yes?" Edelgard angles herself toward Byleth, curious and intent.

"I would - I like fighting by your side," Byleth begins, stumbling over her words a little as she tries to sort them out. "I like being by your side when we aren't fighting. Would it be alright if - could I be at your side in - other ways."

Edelgard's expression is calm and open. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe - by your side isn't the right way to - I mean, I'd like to ..." She pauses for a very long time. "Some of the other crew members are - I've seen ..."

Concern creases her brow. Byleth reaches out across the table, presses her thumb against the indent, and Edelgard nearly goes crosseyed looking up at her hand, letting out a soft breath that's not quite a laugh. Byleth withdraws. "Is everyone treating you alright?"

"Of course," Byleth says, hurriedly. "I just want to kiss you."

"Oh," Edelgard says, calmly - then, startled, "Oh!"

"If you don't want to, it's fine," Byleth says. "But I thought I should say it."

Edelgard clasps her hands together in front of her on the table and ducks her head toward them, laughing. "Oh, Byleth."

"El?"

"Of course." Edelgard looks up at her through her eyelashes, head still lowered toward the table. She's smiling so brightly.

"I've never kissed anyone before," Byleth warns her. "So you'll have to be patient. I know you've already been patient with me, so it's okay if you don't -"

"No, it would be an honor. Don't worry. I can be patient," Edelgard says, sitting up straight again at last. She reaches out, her fingers brushing Byleth's wrist, and Byleth thrills at even that much touch. "Did you want to go to my quarters?"

"Yes," Byleth says, already halfway to her feet with eagerness. "Yes, please."

Edelgard's quarters are similar to Byleth's, with a small bed, a personal computer, a desk and chair, and not much else. She has some personal effects scattered about, like pictures on the wall and a few trinkets that line her desk. She has a sizable collection of pens in a magnetic cup, and a neatly tucked in blanket in black and red and grey with the same symbol on it that the Black Eagles all paint on their mobile suits. 

Her room is very clean. So is Byleth's, not that it matters right now. Byleth is fascinated, pacing around and examining everything. She's never been here before.

Finally, she stops, curiosity sated, and turns to stare at Edelgard again. She clasps her hands behind her back and takes in a deep breath. "Sorry. I got distracted. Is - can we -"

Edelgard steps in to her space, pushing Byleth back a few steps until Byleth's knees bump into Edelgard's bed. Byleth sits down, and Edelgard leans over her, one hand on her shoulder, the other curled loosely around the side of her neck. She stops with their lips mere centimeters apart, so Byleth can feel her breath hot against her skin. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Byleth says, and then the ship falls away and she is surrounded by stars; it is just her and Edelgard and the vast void of space. Edelgard's lips press against her own, and her eyes slip shut at the feeling. She rests her arms on the bed behind her, and her fingers curl in the sheets.

She realizes, quickly, that she should be doing something with her mouth too instead of just sitting there still, so she tries turning her head a little and moving her lips. It feels strange, but good, too. She pays attention to what Edelgard does and tries to follow her lead, and that improves things even further.

Getting greedy, she brings her arms up, wrapping them around Edelgard and pulling her close. Edelgard ends up with a knee between her legs, which Byleth has spread slightly to make room for her to get ever closer. Having Edelgard leaning over her is novel, since their height difference usually guarantees the opposite.

She doesn't mean to, but ends up falling backwards, and pulls Edelgard with her. The motion was accidental but she finds that she doesn't mind it at all - Edelgard balanced atop her, the soft press of her breasts against Byleth's own chest, the way her breath catches when she realizes she has Byleth pinned.

If Byleth wanted to, she can think of a dozen different ways to turn this situation into her advantage in combat, but instead she simply surrenders. "Kiss me again."

"Okay," Edelgard says, and does, and this time her tongue flicks against Byleth's lips so Byleth opens her mouth to it. Edelgard fists a hand in her hair, bracing the other on the mattress.

The same crackling electric feeling she gets when her intuition guides her in battle hits now, too, and the world is an inferno around her and she pants restlessly against Edelgard's mouth, and lifts her head to mouth at her jaw instead.

Edelgard hums, and nuzzles her nose against Byleth's cheek before kissing her neck. Her teeth glide over the thin, sensitive skin and Byleth shudders. She feels so warm and loose, and sinks herself into the odd extra space between them, the intuition-sense that lets their thoughts align.

 _Who am I?_ is her only question, echoing vaguely, unsaid, as their mouths meet again, more urgent this time. _What do you see?_

The fire image of Edelgard washes out like the tide, slipping back into the stars. They were both born in space, and, probably, they will both die in space one day too. (Something triggers a tiny sense-memory of the wind on Earth and the clouds high above, then it vanishes. She does not know whose memory this is, or from when.)

Here is what she sees: a throne, made out of stone; the rolling waves of an endless green ocean; the inferno intensity of a star being born, incandescent with roiling plasma. All of this has the pull of gravity.

Byleth reemerges from this vision breathless, staring at Edelgard. "Ah."

"You," Edelgard says, weakly, resting her head on Byleth's chest for a moment. Byleth strokes her hair. "I remember seeing you at the battle at Side 3, and I ..."

Byleth remembers. She didn't know Edelgard had been there, but she remembers coming out of that battle victorious, the place she lived left intact. That was before she flew the Sword. She was rewarded for her victory with kendo lessons, the different sort of lesson a rare treat, better than endless simulations or the rote repetition of cardio or weight training. "Kiss me again."

"If you insist," Edelgard says, smiling, and she leans in willingly. Byleth could do this for hours.

So, it turns out, could Edelgard.

-

Byleth has killed so many people. Rhea had wanted her to keep count, and she did until she couldn't anymore - how many people could there be on a given freighter or carrier or capital ship? She's only destroyed a few of each - and only one capital ship, once - but. The crews are too many to fathom. 

She thinks about the _Enbarr_ and how many people would die if someone like her in a robot like hers turned their sights on it and she wasn't there. Everyone she loves could die, just like that, and no one would have an exact count. She makes sure to keep track of how many people are on board at all times and never explains why. Trying to keep an accounting of the dead is useless so instead she makes it her business to number the living.

-

They fly out for a sortie. They win. They return. This is always the way of it, but still Byleth's heart is pounding; sometimes, after fighting for the Church, she would get this way and Rhea would get so disappointed, as if she was a failure. Byleth still doesn't know why. Rhea would hurry her out of her mech, get her out of her suit and into regular clothes, and spend hours lecturing her on the justness of their cause - another thing Byleth never quite understood. Colonies that wouldn't hew to Church dogma, that wouldn't properly respect Earth's gravity, had to be brought in line because Rhea said so and Byleth had to be the instrument to convince them, again because Rhea said so.

Byleth stays inside the Sword for long enough, the screens around her dark, the chair cradling her and the straps keeping her secure in the low gravity, that eventually someone comes and bangs on the hull. The sound is distant, but she opens the hatch anyway to find Edelgard looking concerned and Linhardt floating a few feet behind her, not bothering to hold onto a railing.

"Are you alright? Were you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Byleth says. She flew well, as always, and her mech is barely scratched. There had been close calls, of course, and she'd had to swoop in to save one of her allies, but she succeeded; no one on their side died today. Still, her heart is racing. Normally she would go train, but it seems unappealing today, somehow. Too reminiscent of being rushed off by Rhea after a fight. She pulls off her helmet, staring up at Edelgard. "I'm just going to stay here for a little while."

"If you're okay, I'm gonna go. I can fix the Sword just as well after a nap," Linhardt says, kicking a foot against a guardrail and drifting off out of the narrow view allowed through the open hatch. Of their mechanics, he's taken the most interest in researching the Sword and its inner workings, and tends to take the lead on repairs whenever possible.

"Come here," Byleth says, cradling her helmet in her arms and staring at Edelgard. Edelgard hops off the platform, entering; Byleth taps a button and the door closes.

Edelgard eyes her warily. Not with distrust, just a question and a certain degree of caution. "Byleth."

Byleth finally discards her helmet, letting it drift to the side and bump up against a wall with a quiet thunk. It rebounds only slightly, hanging in midair, floating near an amigurumi version of the Gundam that Bernadetta made for her a few months back. She hung it from the ceiling, the first of many decorations she's started to finally adorn the Sword with. There are stickers all over the side of her chair, mostly gifts from Caspar or Linhardt - different colored Haros, colorful spaceships, characters from shows and movies the crew has talked her into watching. 

Edelgard has already changed into her regular clothes, the Imperial uniform flattering her quite nicely; her uniform is well tailored and Byleth finds herself eyeing her more and more often, finds herself imagining Edelgard's body beneath. "Too much adrenaline, I think."

"Ah, I see," Edelgard says. Her eyes glance around the cockpit - she hasn't been inside before. Byleth has let her in everywhere but here, until now. "Caspar flew today, too, I'm sure he's got pent up energy. If you wanted to spar with him -"

"No," Byleth says. She hesitates before closing the hatch. The hydraulic whine of its motion is punctuated by a loud, echoing clunk as it locks them in. She unbuckles herself, half-rising from the chair. The space inside the cockpit is tight. The screens around them are dark, a black circle darker than the void of space, barely lit by instrument panels and safety lighting, but it still feels at once cramped and endless. 

Carelessly, intentionally, she lets herself drift the few feet into Edelgard, and the inertia pushes them both forward against the black screen of the wall.

"Oh," Edelgard says, and then she has a hand in Byleth's hair and her mouth collides with Byleth's, just as eager and adrenaline-driven. There's something desperate about Edelgard's demeanor compared to usual - they've kissed any number of times since that first night, with different degrees of intensity, but never quite like this.

Byleth feels like a beam saber, sharp and burning hot but still constrained and given shape and form and function. She focuses all that intensity and intention on Edelgard, because where else would it go. She fists her hand in Edelgard's shirt, then - "Can I take your shirt off?"

Edelgard nods, and starts to unbutton it herself. Byleth lets herself drift back slightly, eyeing the chair. When Edelgard has finished with the buttons, Byleth helps yank it off, and stares. She's never seen Edelgard in anything less than long sleeves and gloves before. (Edelgard still has her gloves on; Byleth doesn't think to ask her to take those off. She likes them too much for that. Byleth is still wearing the rest of her normal suit, after all, her own hands covered with material strong enough to protect from vacuum. They both have their boundaries, maybe.)

The thing is, Byleth has not given much thought before now as to what she finds attractive. She has looked at a few dirty magazines she found hidden around the ship and felt interested enough, but she never attempted to figure out any sort of ideal properties a partner might have, or things she would look for. She has given very little thought to partnering at all, except for how she wants to kiss Edelgard all the time and fight by her side until the end of time. The only models for behavior she has are her crewmates, and none of them are especially demonstrative in front of her, not that she blames them. She saw Hubert and Ferdinand the once and they've been stoic and careful ever since.

But: before her now floats Edelgard, ghost-pale and muscular, with strong shoulders and large low breasts and a jag of scar tissue that runs from shoulder to shoulder, just below her clavicle with an especially gnarly knot of scarring just above her heart.

Byleth has a scar just like it. She lunges forward, and Edelgard startles, until Byleth does nothing but nuzzle at it and kiss her, biting at the skin greedily but gently enough not to hurt. Then, to be sure, because Edelgard always asks her this: "Is this okay?"

"Yes, yes," Edelgard says, breathless and almost laughing. She takes hold of Byleth's hand by the wrist, raising it between them so Byleth can cup her breast. "Is that -"

"Oh," Byleth says; Edelgard's breasts feel much like her own, in terms of weight and size and when she rubs a thumb across Edelgard's nipple, she gasps, suddenly grinning. A pleasant reaction, good enough that Byleth decides to duck her head from nuzzling at scar tissue to instead pressing kisses along the soft curve of skin. 

Eyes flicking upward, feeling particularly daring, Byleth runs her tongue across one nipple, letting her hand squeeze at Edelgard's other breast. That earns a hissed intake of breath and a, "Yes, that's good."

"Thank you," Byleth says, feeling absurd the moment the words leave her mouth. "Just tell me what you want."

"Keep doing that," Edelgard says, her voice unsteady in a way Byleth has never heard before. She's heard Edelgard uncertain about tactical decisions and heard her shaken after battle and heard her careful about delicate situations, has heard the unsteadiness in her voice late at night when they've run into each other in the ship's halls after nightmares. This unsteadiness, though, betrays an eagerness and a wanting.

For just a moment, Byleth has double vision - sees herself from above, the focus of her wide-eyed intensity honed in on Edelgard's breasts, sees the hand in her hair and the rest of the cockpit behind her, and sees what's in front of her, too. Then it subsides, and she huffs out a breath against Edelgard's skin, and tries biting down, just lightly - the careful application of pressure, a signal of caution, showing _I can be delicate, I can use myself for things other than hurt._

"Byleth," Edelgard mumbles, and Byleth nods, nudging a foot against the wall, pulling Edelgard with her, pulling her along so they can settle in the chair. Edelgard half-kneels above her, one knee between Byleth's legs, pressing against her; Byleth shudders at the pressure even through her suit.

Their mouths meet again for a moment, then Byleth turns her attention to Edelgard's neck, instead. She can feel Edelgard's pulse against her lips, the rush of blood just below the surface. Edelgard is so warm. She runs her hands up and down Edelgard's sides, enjoying it even with the separation between them.

Part of her wants to shuck off her normal suit, but that feels like too much effort, like something for another time. Instead, she says, "Your pants."

"Yes," Edelgard agrees, tugging them down, twisting above her and taking advantage of the low gravity to remove them without moving far at all. More scars, on her thighs. Byleth palms at the dip where her hip meets her torso, and Edelgard shudders. Their eyes meet, Edelgard's hooded and bright, her breath coming fast.

"Can I try - can I touch you?" In the dark, lit by the glow of instrument panels, Edelgard is almost ethereal, like a dream instead of a woman. Byleth strokes the side of her thigh just to reassure herself of her presence. They are both here, in the place Byleth is most comfortable, and neither of them is here to kill anyone. That's the thing about the Sword: it's the place Byleth feels safest, and it's also used for nothing but destruction and death. It feels like an act of rebellion against Rhea, being here with Edelgard this way, not that Rhea will ever know. Still, Byleth grins thinking about it, baring her teeth at the Heaven Rhea tried to instill into her beliefs.

"Yes," Edelgard says again, her voice lower than usual. Arousal has roughened her tone. "Yes, please, absolutely."

The angle feels odd, trying to reach between Edelgard's legs like this. She's only ever touched herself before. "Can you ..."

She nudges at Edelgard a little, and turns her around, settling her on her lap. She brushes her hair aside and rests her head on Edelgard's shoulder, nuzzling sidelong at her cheek as she lets her hand move between Edelgard's legs.

It's easier, from this angle; she can approach Edelgard nearly the same way she would approach herself. She rests her palm on Edelgard's mound, fingers resting over her slit, and drags her middle finger up slowly, gently - she wants to be careful about pressure, and it's made more difficult to gauge by the gloves.

Edelgard lets out a moan, hips jerking slightly toward Byleth's touch, and Byleth grins against her neck. 

"Okay?"

"More than," Edelgard says. "Please."

Even with Edelgard asking, Byleth still takes it slow and cautious, rubbing gently before trying to actuall probe inside. She rubs her thumb gently over where Edelgard's clit is still hidden, not parting her at all just yet. Even through the suit, she can feel the decrease in friction as Edelgard gets wet for her.

With a little less caution, she tries, finally, to slip a finger inside - slow and gentle about it, just in case, but with enough pressure to slip in. Edelgard draws a ragged breath, a hand drifting down to clutch at Byleth's hip, her nails digging into the sturdy fabric.

Edelgard rocks against her hand, and Byleth lets her, transfixed by the sounds Edelgard makes. "Another."

"Ah," Byleth says, and slips in a second finger, crooking both a little to press against her front wall. Edelgard is still rocking up and down against her, but Byleth decides to move her hand, too, fucking Edelgard on her fingers a little more forcefully. It always takes herself a while to get worked up enough for this, but Edelgard's so wet already and making such lovely sounds that Byleth thinks it's okay.

She gets no complaint, certainly; Edelgard whines, and then presses a hand over her own mouth. "Byleth, Byleth," she mumbles, muffled.

"Thank you," Byleth says. "For letting me." She rubs her thumb over Edelgard's clit with more pressure this time, making little circles against it.

Edelgard bites down on a yell. A projection that Byleth thinks she would see even without her intuition: a roaring fire consuming a throne room; a phoenix above a vast green sea; the birth of a galaxy. Edelgard is languishing in the pleasure of it all, and somehow Byleth is the one responsible.

She cannot believe how lucky she is. Byleth has chosen Edelgard already, but, she is realizing now, Edelgard has chosen her too. She tries her best to make it good - running a hand up and down Edelgard's torso, sometimes cupping a breast, sometimes just enjoying the feeling of moving her hand and feeling Edelgard tremble under her touch; meanwhile, she keeps fucking her, quicker now.

Edelgard has her eyes clenched shut, biting down on the side of her thumb to try and suppress the sounds she's making. Byleth would rather hear her, but if Edelgard wants to keep quiet, Byleth can respect that.

It is not too much longer before Edelgard comes apart completely, throwing her head back with a great tremor and exhalation, walls clenching down on Byleth's fingers. Byleth stills her hand, sliding her fingers out slowly, carefully. Edelgard hisses at the loss, and her head drops to her chest.

"Thank you," Byleth says, which makes Edelgard laugh, at least.

"I should thank you." Edelgard turns around, rising slightly to kneel over Byleth. Byleth rests her hands on Edelgard's waist, squeezing lightly for a moment.

She tilts her head up, lips parted, and Edelgard takes the hint and kisses her.

-

Byleth is eating dinner alone when she realizes there's someone looming behind her. She doesn't have to turn to look. "Hello, Hubert."

"Byleth," Hubert says, sitting down next to her. 

"That's me."

"I've been told my compliments are terrifying, so prepare yourself," Hubert says, mouth curled in a smirk. She and the Captain rarely share meals together, and most of their conversations are purely related to strategy and combat. Hearing him speak a little more casually is strange. "I've noticed since your arrival that Edelgard has been flying better. I think having you here has re-energized her, as if you've given her another reason to fight."

"Oh." Byleth nods, more out of surprise than actual agreement. "If I can ... if I can inspire someone that way. That's good. I fight for her."

"Don't tell her that," Hubert says, "or don't phrase it that way. She would rather you fight for her ideals than for her."

Byleth nods again, slower and more deliberately this time. "Alright. I understand. I guess that wouldn't be inaccurate, either; she already - she is her ideals. She embodies them. So fighting for her means fighting for what she believes in."

"Hm." He eyes her thoughtfully. "She was right. You really have changed since your arrival."

"I would hope so." Byleth pulls a face. "I didn't even have a name when I showed up."

Hubert clasps his hands on top of the table, staring off at the far side of the dining room. "I'm glad she met you."

"Me, too," Byleth says. Then: "What about you?"

"Am I glad I met her? Of course."

Byleth snorts. "No, I meant me."

"Hmm," he says, chuckling darkly. Byleth rolls her eyes, bumping him in the shoulder with a fist, not quite a punch. "Fine, yes, I am, if only for your utility to -"

"Yo, Byleth! Hubert!" Caspar bounds across the dining room, throwing his arms around both their shoulders as he leans behind them, grinning wide. "Almost movie time, you two coming?"

"Way to interrupt, jerk, of course we're coming," Byleth says, untucking the ketchup-stained napkin from her shirt collar and getting up. She gets Caspar in a loose headlock, ruffling his hair, and he cracks up laughing and wriggles out of her grasp. Hubert rolls his eyes at their antics, but follows along anyway. 

Most of the crew are already there, and as Byleth looks around for a place to sit, Edelgard spots her and pats at the seat next to her, smiling. Byleth vaults over the back of the sofa, drifting down gently into the seat; if they sit a little too close, if their thighs are pressed together, then no matter. She feels comfortable, warmed by a fire that burns but does not consume.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @aflightybroad or the fediverse @aflightybroad@goblin.camp if you wanna talk about fire emblem or about sad kids in big robots or both


End file.
